


Bravo, Katniss and Peeta, Bravo

by sunfishdunes



Series: Mundane Everlark [2]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 20:08:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1755925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunfishdunes/pseuds/sunfishdunes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fuckin' Bravo</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bravo, Katniss and Peeta, Bravo

 

“It’s been awhile since we’ve had anyone over for dinner,” Katniss calls from the mudroom off the garage.

 

“Yeah, since – wait, when was the last time we had anyone over here?” I try my hardest to recall just when we had company over since Tess’ birth. Aside from Prim, Rye or the plumber, I honestly can’t recall the last person to step foot in our house, and our daughter is going on two. Maybe we’re a little overdue for some adult conversation. “Well, no matter, Katniss. It’ll be nice to have a delicious meal with old friends.”

 

Katniss walks into the kitchen and heads to the sink to wash her hands. I can’t help but wrap my arms around her waist while she murmurs, “Agreed. I’ve been meaning to ask Delly how little Tucker is doing in K-4. Pretty soon we’ll be looking for options for Tessie. Madge and Gale already have Enid enrolled at Hillcrest, and she’s only a few months older than Tess.”

 

I nod, moving past Katniss to look over my menu for tonight. “I feel like it’s been forever since I’ve had a good debate with someone, you know?”

 

Katniss looks at her feet, but not before the look of disappointment ghosts over her face and I rush to explain. “Oh, Baby. I didn’t mean it like that. Honest. We’ve been so busy with Tess, and you know there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. I just—”

 

She interrupts me, “No, I know. We’ve been kind of alternating between baby and Bravo. We need to get out of our rut.”

 

Walking over to where Katniss stands at the kitchen island, I hold her close. She mimics my actions and breathes deeply against my chest. “Would you laugh at me if I asked whether the DVR was set though?”

 

I chuckle and kiss the top of her head. “What, and risk missing part two of the Housewives’ reunion? Never!” She pinches my side—hmm, there’s noticeably more side to pinch since Tess was born—and I relent. “Of course I programmed the DVR. Now let’s get back to business.”

 

I’ve been working on this menu for a week now, consulting a few foodie blogs and websites for good measure. After much consideration and deliberation, I’ve settled on a fresh asparagus salad with hollandaise, quail two ways, barley with shitake mushrooms and pearl onions, and an apple-pear tartlet. Delly insisted on bringing a dessert as well, and though it really won’t compliment the flavors I’ve composed, I can’t really refuse her kind offer. There won’t be much of a contest—that tartlet will close out the meal perfectly. Surely our guests will see that.

 

“Peeta?” Katniss calls. “You’re chilling the pinot grigio, right?”

 

“I’m thinking that the pinot noir will really bring out the gamey flavor of the quail, hon.”

 

“Yeah, sounds interesting. But what about the pinot grigio?”

 

I sigh. One step up from white zin, but Katniss really seems to gravitate toward the wine. “Of course. It’s in the fridge.”

 

A couple of hours later, Tess has been dropped off at Papa Mellark’s, the table is set, each course is cooking, perfectly timed for service, Katniss and I are dressed and we’re waiting for the arrival of our guests.

 

_Ding dong._

 

Katniss and I walk to the door, smiling as we open it.

 

“Delly! Thom! So good to see you both!” I usher them in and take their dessert plate—rice krispy treats, really?!—as Katniss kisses cheeks.

 

“Oh!” Delly gasps. “I, um, we didn’t think to dress up so formally. My, Katniss, I don’t think I’ve seen you look so, um…my, you do have such pretty skin.”

 

Thom’s eyes bulge out at the sight of my wife—man, she looks hot in those thigh-high boots—and quickly find the floor. “Oh, stop. This old thing? Nonsense, Delly. Though I will say that Peeta is a fan.” She playfully winks at me.

 

Delly shifts to face me and her smile falters for just a split second. “And Peeta! Well, those leather pants do seem to fit you like a second skin.”

 

Thom’s head snaps up and he remarks, “Dude, chest hair much?”

 

I shrug. “Katniss seems to like it.” You’d think that he could have put a little bit more effort into _his_ wardrobe choice. Wranglers?

 

“A little peek is all I need,” she coos as she unbuttons another button from my shirt. “There’s something so masculine about chest hair, don’t you think?”

 

We both look to Delly and Thom, who seem oddly uncomfortable. Delly blushes and looks toward the kitchen as Thom clears his throat. I try to navigate the conversation. “Well, enough about us. Come in! Come in! I’m sure Madge and Gale will be along shortly. Can I get you both something to drink?”

 

“That would be wonderful, thank you. Would you have any iced tea, Peeta?” I nod in her direction before Thom asks for a Budweiser.

“I can’t help you there, good man. How about a Sleeman?” Thom shrugs in what I assume is an agreement. I hand Delly her beverage before showing her husband the engraved bottles from the Ontario brewery. “You’ll love this, trust me.”

 

Thom takes a swig and nods. “Beer is beer, I guess.”

 

“Yeah, but it’s got a nice, hoppy finish, right?”

 

“I mean, it’s beer, man.”

 

“It’s Sleeman! Thom, it made _O_ magazine!”

 

He looks pointedly at his wife and she hides behind her iced tea. Katniss, meanwhile, takes a seat and crosses her legs. “Baby? Pinot grigio?”

 

“Oh, of course. Coming right up, Katniss.”

 

Before I return with her glass, the doorbell rings again announcing our last guests. Katniss jumps up and walks to the door, greeting Madge and Gale.

 

“Madge, darling. How good of you to come.” More cheek kisses.

 

“Katniss! It’s so good to see—Oh! I mean, um, oh. Oh my. That is such a…I mean, look at you! You sure do have a way of showing off your figure.”

 

“Holy shit, Catnip!” Madge kicks her husband. “I mean, uhh. Always good to see so much—” another kick “—I mean, always good to see you.” Gale looks at the ceiling. “I brought the Bud.”

 

“Thank god!” calls Thom.

 

“No need, Gale. I have Sleeman!”

 

I walk into the foyer and Gale’s jaw hits the floor. “Peeta, is that a fucking blouse?!”

 

I look from Gale to Katniss, confused. Confusion is etched on her face, too. “What? Of course not. Mark my words, guys. This design was all over the runway at New York Fashion Week.” I chuckle and pull Katniss to my side. “You heard it here first! You can thank me next fall.”

 

Only no one thanks me. In fact, no one says much of anything. Then again, I have Thom in Wranglers and Gale in, well, maybe those are Dockers.

 

“Pinot grigio?” Katniss asks.

 

Madge smiles at her husband and coyly says, “Just water for me. Everyone, we’re expecting another bundle of joy!”

 

We all congregate around the expectant couple, exclaiming our happiness. Thom claps Gale on the shoulder, Delly squeals and hugs Madge. When the initial excitement wanes, Katniss calls, “Mazel tov!”

 

Madge looks taken aback and says, “Oh. Um, thank you?”

 

Gale quips, “Since when are you Jewish?”

 

“What?” Katniss takes another sip of her wine before passing the empty glass back to me to fill. “Oh, we’re not. It’s just something I say. Mazel of the Day and all.”

 

“Mazel of the what?—”

 

“Everyone, dinner is ready. Please, come join us in the dining room.”

 

Our guests shuffle in, each couple taking one side of the table while Katniss sits on one end. I’ll take the other as courses are served.

 

First up is the asparagus. I present everyone with a small salad plate, each holding three asparagus spears and a small dollop of smooth hollandaise. I notice that Gale frowns at his plate while asking Madge what the ‘green things’ are. She shushes him and I begin. “The first course this evening is a summer salad of fresh asparagus and buttery hollandaise, the rich flavor of the sauce is meant to compliment the sweet, parboiled green. Enjoy.” I bow and take my seat.

 

Katniss catches my eye and blows me a kiss, moaning, “Oh my god, bananas,” as she chews. I carefully cut a small bite, dipping the vegetable in sauce. Closing my eyes, I know that the dish is perfect. LITrally. Once I open them, however, I see Gale and Thom eyeing the salad warily.

 

“Gentlemen, is there a problem with the first course?”

 

Gale clears his throat. “I don’t think I’ve had asparagus before.”

 

Thom chimes in, smelling his plate. “And I don’t think that hollandaise agrees with me. No matter, though. Got any bread?”

 

Delly pats Thom’s knee and coos, “Now, Thom. I’m sure there will be Crescent Rolls soon.”

 

Katniss senses my discomfort and answers, “Oh Delly. You’re such a dear. I die. Certainly you know we wouldn’t serve bread from a tube. But I’m sure that you’ll all love the main course.” I begin to rise and Katniss points to her glass and loudly whispers, “Pinot grigio!”

 

I meticulously plate the quail two ways, placing a dollop of barley, mushrooms and pearl onions down the center of each plate. Not wanting our guests to have too much of a wait, I take out the main course without further delay.

 

Thom again sniffs his plate and smiles, “Now this is what I’m talking about, Peeta. Chicken! I hope there’s seconds!”

 

I cringe and begin, “For our main course I’ve prepared _quail_ two ways: pan roasted with prosciutto and honey braised. Both are joined by a creamy medley of barley, shitake mushrooms and pearl onions. The flavors are perfectly matched with the Pencarrow Martinborough Pinot Noir, but Madge you’ll still get a similar effect without. Enjoy.”

 

Delly digs in and asks, “Now I can’t remember ever having quail, Peeta. It is delicious.”

 

Thom stabs a piece of meat from each side of his plate and tries to scoop up some barley, too. He garbles with his mouth full of food, “It tastes like chicken. Did I tell you guys about the ribs I barbequed the other day? I’m telling you, they fell off the bone!”

 

“Peeta?” Katniss wipes her mouth as we all turn to her expectantly. “Did you taste the quail before serving?”

 

“Katniss!” Madge hisses.

 

I feel shame burning my cheeks. Such a rookie move! How many times have I heard Padma and Tom talk about the mistake that threatens to ruin so many dishes. Taste! Season! Taste before serving!

 

“No matter. It just would have been that much better with a touch more salt, dear. Next time.”

 

“Well I don’t know about you, Catnip, but I find that the salt shaker works just fine if you need it.” Gale passes the shaker to Katniss but she waves it away. He shrugs. “Chicken tastes fine to me! You got some more back there, Peeta? These little things won’t last long.”

 

“Oh, um, I really only planned on one _quail_ per person, Gale.”

 

“That’s one bird? Huh.” Madge offers him some of her dish and I cringe, thinking _But the whole idea was quail two ways!_

“Pinot grigio?” Katniss asks. No one asks for more wine, so I move again to the kitchen to refill my wife’s glass. Delly and Gale follow.

 

“Um, Peeta?” Gale rubs the back of his head nervously but doesn’t continue.

 

Delly cuts in. “What Gale was going to say was, um, are you and Katniss alright?”

 

I look from my best friend to my wife’s, confused. “Yes, why?”

 

“Well, I guess I’ve never seen you both, so, um, cultured? Is that the word I’m looking for, Gale?”

 

“I was going to say ‘jacked up’ but whatever.”

 

“Excuse me?! ‘Jacked up’?!”

 

“What he means to say is, well, the clothes, the fancy food, the Mazel of the Day. And really? Do you guys have a box of Franzia in the fridge or something?” Delly puts her hand on the refrigerator door and pulls it open.

 

“Franzia? Delly, I’m offended.” As she closes the door I continue, “Katniss and I just wanted to spend some quality time with you and enjoy some mature conversation. Is that too much to ask?”

 

“Dude, no, of course not. But it’s weird. Who the hell says ‘bananas’ like that?”

 

“And ‘I die’?”

 

“Okay, okay. So she’s gotten hooked on _The Rachel Zoe Project_.” I raise my hands in defeat. “Fine! And I like _Top Chef_. So kill me! Guys, you don’t know what it’s like! It was either Bravo TV or Barney! We were going crazy!”

 

Delly pats my shoulder consolingly and Gale heaves a great sigh. “Maybe it’s just a phase. Keep an eye on it, bro. You know, watch some Law and Order every once in awhile, okay? Hannibal. Christ, I’d be happy if you watched HGTV. Madge loves that shit now that’s she’s nesting or whatever. Come on, let’s go have some dessert.”

 

“I brought Rice Krispys!”

 

And a little part of me dies inside as she removes the aluminum foil before walking back to the dining room. No big deal, no big deal. I have apple-pear tartlets!

 

My wife is a little red—a sure sign that the wine is working—as I plate her tartlet. She’s finding it just a little bit difficult to focus, but smiles as she samples her dessert.

 

“Oh Delly,” Madge breathes. “These are to die for!”

 

Katniss’ wine glass meets the table with some force and we all jump. “Katniss?” Delly asks. “Why are your eyes all crazy?”

 

“My eyes aren’t crazy, Delly. Maybe your wig is squeezing your head too tight, heifer.”

 

Thom’s fist meets the table, “Now wait just a god damned minute. Did you just call my wife a heifer?”

 

Delly grabs his elbow and whimpers, “Thom, don’t. It’s the Bravo talking.”

 

But Katniss isn’t finished. “Here I am, throwing a dinner party and then she tries to disrespect the tartlet in front of my friends? I am just so, so, so done with you.” She stands and starts gesturing wildly, hitting the table. “There has to be something else. Stripping, arrested, prostitution whore, engaged 19 times?!”

 

Katniss is like a freaking caged animal at the zoo. I grab her around the waist and haul her to the kitchen as Madge whispers, “Really, Delly? Stripping?”

 

Gale pops open a Bud and quips, “Nice use of ‘prostitution whore’ though.”

 

Delly takes the beer from his hands and takes a long drink. “Fuckin’ Bravo, Man.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
